Fabens started on a run for Troffater's, and met two neighbors who had just come from his house; they had seen no Clinton; and assured him Clinton could not be there. They all hastened to Fabens', and met Julia and the parents; but no Clinton could be heard from. Darkness extinguished the last gleam of heaven, and they shuddered and wept in agonies of grief for the lost boy.
"How can we let the night pass without our lamb?" cried Mother Fabens.
"Dear, dear boy!—why did I let him go, when I cannot bear to have him out of my sight? Why did I let him go?" sobbed Julia frantically.
"Will not God be gracious? O will he not be gracious?" cried Fabens.
"There! I thought that little fawn was a forerunner of something!" exclaimed Mother Fabens. "That little fawn that came here last June. It has haunted my mind ever since. O I fear it did not come here without a warning?"
"But we let it go again," cried Julia; "and will not my pretty, pretty fawn be given back to his mother again? O! O!"
"An Indian shot a fawn the same day we let that go, and in the same direction he went. I always thought it was that handsome fellow," said Major Fabens.
"Mercy! it cannot be the fawn was a forerunner! O it cannot be that I shall not get my Clinton again!" cried Matthew, looking as if ready to reel to the ground. "O friends, do rouse the neighbors! if he's only lost, I'm afraid the wolves or panthers will catch him. You know how the wolves have howled of late; and I heard a panther scream last night, I thought. Do rouse the neighbors to advise and help!"
The friends seized torches and were away to the first dwelling. The news flew around as fast as distance would permit; and by nine o'clock the whole neighborhood were together with throbbing hearts and anxious looks.
"I fetched my horn and cow-bell," said Mr. Waldron; "I made a noise on the way. Horns will scare off painters, and wolves don't like tootin' or clatter a mite."